


Blighter

by kaclydid



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blighter!OC, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Slow Burn, Smut, future smut, one scene that actually depicts abuse in a later chapter, single mother, will tag accordingly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaclydid/pseuds/kaclydid
Summary: Working in your mother's seamstress shop, controlled by Blighters, and just trying to raise your son, life in a gang-ruled area is anything but simple. When a mysterious figure starts showing up in your neighborhood, you start to wonder if some of your troubles will be gone soon. When you meet and befriend the mysterious figure, Jacob Frye, you learn more than you bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> started writing this while I was playing Syndicate like forever ago. I'm currently playing through the entire series again, so bear with me on some facts from Syndicate that I may get wrong.

The sun was just starting to crest over the horizon, burning away the London morning fog. A shadow sat against a smokestack, the chimney emitting a large cloud of black smog into the morning air from the warehouse below. Another shadow appeared, lithe steps making little noise on the roof cobbles. Below, in the courtyard created by the warehouse’s outer walls and fence, Blighters were starting to run off, away from the billowing smoke and flames licking along the side of the building. Men and women in green and yellow coats were rushing around, fighting a few lingering Blighters or leading children towards the street.

The newcomer shook her head, looking over to the figure in the shadow of the chimney. “I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” she started, voice calm as her gaze drifted back to the warehouse engulfed in flames. “This is why we should  _ plan _ .”

The shadow beside the chimney chuckled, tearing his gaze away from the warehouse and over to the woman. Standing, he stretched his shoulders, removing his hood and replacing the frayed flat cap he wore. “In my defense, I thought this would go a  _ lot _ more smoothly,” he replied, stepping up to her. “The target got away. Headed towards the Strand.”

Below the fire brigade was pulling up to the warehouse, now devoid of any green-cloaked Rooks, a few Blighters lying unconscious on the damp cobbles. “Well,” Evie sighed, looking up and over to her brother. “There’s nothing you can do now but watch the building burn,” she smirked. “Would you like some help tracking him down again?”

Jacob rolled his eyes, noting the sarcastic jab from his sister. Stepping forward, toe of his boot just at the edge of the roof shingles, he looked down, noting the direction the Rooks had ran. “I think I can manage it, sweet sister,” he smiled, stepping back as he glanced to Evie. “I’ve just figured out the perfect plan.”

“Jacob, if you’re —“ Her words were cut off at the sound of Jacob’s rope launcher firing, and as she turned back to where he brother had been standing, her mouth clamped shut. “Don’t die!” She called as Jacob landed with a slight wobble on an awning across the street. 

Jacob merely waved back to his sister before jumping off the awning and disappearing into the crowd. 

* * *

The man Jacob Frye was in search of had somehow reclaimed the stronghold in the Strand, killing a handful of Rooks in so doing. The Blighter was tougher than most, and had waited for the opportune time to strike back at the Rooks, somehow not caring of the surveillance of the Frye Twins and all of their Rooks.

As the sun continued to burn away the dreary morning fog lingering over London, the people of the city went about their day in the sunlight. As Jacob walked, shouldering past crowds, nodding to passing Rooks atop carriages, and smiling sweetly to a young urchin girl selling apples on a street corner, his focus was trained on a single aura, always a few yards ahead of him, and always moving. 

Turning a corner, Jacob took up an old newspaper from a stoop as he passed, continuing towards the corner directly across from his target location. Leaning casually against the wall, he unfolded the paper and held it in front of him. 

Across the way, within the courtyard of the buildings, which Jacob noticed were a printing house, stood a group of Blighters, their red auras dancing in his second sight. Down the street, about a block away, music from a pub drifted into the open street, the drunks not yet obnoxiously wailing along. A group of Rooks were huddled around the back tables, the green aura of the allies lighting up an entire area of the street. 

The Blighter Jacob was trailing, Sutherland, had managed to slip away whenever Jacob had come close. He had retaken the stronghold, but no Blighters had been seen in that area, and the Rooks easily took it back. The warehouses Sutherland frequented were spread across the entire city, making it difficult to pin him down. It was as if he knew he was being followed, and Evie would surely say Jacob was probably walking into a trap. 

But damn if Jacob was going to roll over and go after someone else. With Starrick dead, and Roth as well, Jacob’s main targets were just leftover Blighter commanders trying to weasel their way back into control. 

Flipping a page of the paper and trailing his gaze over the top, Jacob noticed Sutherland standing near the open space between the buildings, his gaze focused on a poster plastered to the wall to his right. 

Folding the paper, Jacob stepped from the wall and quickly jogged across the street, keeping as inconspicuous as possible as he crossed. Reaching up and removing the flat cap, pulling his hood up as he stuffed the hat into a coat pocket, Jacob slowed his gate along the building, listening to the conversation within. 

Taking a step back and looking up at the building’s facade, he noted an open window, and above that, on the roof, a Blighter with a rifle in hand, pacing back and forth. Sutherland had moved into the farthest building in the small square, leaving the normal guards to be taken care of. Quickly shooting a rope up to the roof above, Jacob landed lightly on his feet beside the open window. Crouching low as he watched the sniper turn their back on him, he sprung up, sinking his hidden blade into the soft spot between the Blighter’s shoulder blades. Guiding the body down to the roof to make as little sound as possible, he turned to the alley, looking down to where Sutherland had been examining the poster on the wall. Two Blighters stood facing the street, the courtyard devoid of any other guards. Taking a deep breath, Jacob stepped from the roof and landed with a slight scuffle on top of the two men, blade sinking into the neck of the one on his left as his right arm wrapped around the other’s neck. 

A loud whistle pulled Jacob’s focus from the two dead Blighters. As he looked up a carriage rushed past in the street, averting his attention from the aura sprinting off towards the nearby park. 

Jacob cursed, kicking into a run and hurdling a short iron fence with ease and only a few hollers from passers by. The green of the park was a stark contrast to the monotonous tones of brick and mortar that made up the buildings surrounding it. The green leaves and small fountain in the center reflected the morning sunlight. The Blighter continued, walking along the street on the outside of the park, occasionally chancing a look back. 

Once more, Jacob cursed. Sutherland had sent out a lackey, and upon looking back to where the hideout was, Jacob noted another carriage trundle down the street with a familiar bald headed man sitting at the bench. The man Jacob had chased into the park was not his target, but he was a Blighter anyway. Using a woman pushing a prom as cover, Jacob slowed his gait, watching the Blighter relax as he continued to walk. Stepping around the woman and kicking into a run, Jacob managed to run up to the Blighter, arm going tight around his neck as he pulled him into the street and towards a carriage. 

* * *

You heard a short gasp of shock from behind you, and you instinctively turned, watching as a young nurse maid pushing a pram stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, gaze trained on something in the street. As you watched, a police officer stepped up to the frantic woman, as she motioned towards a carriage. Following her gesture, you could just barely make out the form of a man in a bright red jacket being loaded into a carriage by a … man in a hood?

Watching as the nurse maid continued her walk in the opposite direction, and the police officer starting towards the hooded man only to stop as the mysterious man waved with a short greeting, you felt bile rise in your throat. Turning back to the toddler sitting before you and smiling as he held up his toy soldiers, you ran a finger over the slightly messy hair under his cap before turning back to look to the carriage. 

The policeman had apparently kept walking towards the carriage and the man in the hood, and as you watched, you noticed the man remove the hood, replacing it with what you could barely make out as a flat cap. The man spoke to the officer with a large smile, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to motion to the carriage as they spoke. 

As the officer walked off, the man you had been watching turned, scanning the park. For a moment you thought his gaze had met your wide eyed one, a he stopped and stared in your direction before turning and climbing onto the carriage. 

Ducking your head and turning back to the toddler before you, you leaned in, taking the daisy he held aloft for you and tucking it behind your ear. Looking back up towards the carriage, you noticed it had gone, but now a man in a bright green jacket stood on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets and whistling as he started to pace along the street. 


	2. Chapter 2

That had been the first time you had seen the mysterious man wearing a hood. Since then, you had seen him twice more in various places around London. The first time had been as you were walking through Covent Garden, your mother and son, William, following along as you browsed the stands.

The man stood flanked by five men in the green coats you had started noticing more often now. You knew they were a gang, much like the Blighters, but it seemed they had the people of the city in mind, and actively opposed the local Blighter gangs. The group stood under an arch on the western side of the mall, the mystery man’s gaze drifting over his shoulder every so often as people walked past. This time, instead of a beat up flat cap, he was dressed in a finely tailored leather coat and top hat, although as he turned you noticed his shirt was still untucked and his collar loose.

Upon first noticing him at Covent Garden, you had to do a double take, not recognizing him in such a close proximity. Having grown up in your mother’s seamstress shop, you knew how to recognize fine tailoring when you saw it. The mystery man’s coat was well crafted, the embossed leather accents on his shoulders and the belt embellished perfectly with brass trimmings. But the rest of his clothes, save for the embroidered green waist coat he wore, were older, and well worn. As well as coated in dirt practically up to his knees.

The next time you saw him, was a bit stranger. Since that first time you had seen him from across the park, you knew there was some sort of dangerous aura that surrounded this man. But, this time, you got a first hand look.

His hood was up once more, and he wore the dark leather coat, mud splattered against the tails you noted as he stood in the alley across from your shop. Nothing remotely exciting ever happened in the small neighborhood where your mother’s shop sat, but once in a while, Blighters roamed the area, and as you had learned, if Blighters were around, the green-cloaked Rooks were sure to be close as well.

As you stood on the stoop of the store, broom in hand, you watched the man across the way. The street wasn’t busy this early in the morning, most of your neighbors having yet to open their shutters to start the day. As you heard fast approaching footsteps, a young child ran up to the man, a bit out of breath.

“Mister Frye! Mister Frye!” The urchin exclaimed, feet splashing in the puddle in the center of the street as he ran up.

You caught yourself, watching as the man, apparently Mr. Frye, bent low to listen to the urchin boy. After a moment, he pointed down the street, turning to the Rooks at his side. You followed his gesture, looking down to the railroad overpass a few blocks down.

Turning back to watch them, you noticed Mr. Frye set his hand on the young boy’s shoulder, nodding him forward.

As you turned into your shop, you noticed the group of Blighters slowly started down the street towards where Mr. Frye and his Rooks had been standing and a shred of fear planted itself into your chest. But, if the Rooks were patrolling the neighborhood, perhaps you could replace that fear with hope.

Stopping mid stride as your nose came within an inch of a large barrel chested man in a red waistcoat, you jumped slightly, clutching the broom to your chest. “G-good morning,” you started, glancing up to the man.

Jonah Sutherland, a rather influential man within the Blighters, had known you far longer and far better than you ever wanted to admit. He stood almost two heads taller than you, having to physically duck his head to step into the shop. Since you had last seen him a few months ago, he had cut his shaggy hair into a close crop that was so short, he was practically bald, and had trimmed his mustache and beard as well. Clean shaven, he looked even more intimidating.

You gulped. If the Rooks truly were trying to rid London of the Blighters, then they surely would be going after Sutherland, you realized. And if Jonah was standing before you now, there was a good chance he knew the Rooks were patrolling.

Sutherland glared at your slight stammer as you stepped back, leading him into the shop, but didn’t say anything, pushing past you as you held the door open to step into the main room of the seamstress shop.

“My order ready?” He started, and although it was a question, there was no conversational tone, nor kind undertone in his words.

You nodded, struggling to find your voice as you started behind the counter. “Y-yes,” you nodded, pulling a box out from below the front desk and setting it atop the counter. As you pushed it forward, you kept your gaze fixed on the third button of his waistcoat which had been replaced with a different button by someone not all that knowledgeable of sewing.

With Sutherland standing before you now, in the little shop where you had spent most of your life, you let your mind wander back to the earliest days of your relationship with the large man. He had been kind, and trusting, and had vowed he would marry you once your mother approved.

But that had been a little over five years ago.

He never once brought up the prospect of marriage, and the only good thing that had come from your short relationship was your son, William. He had changed shortly after that first initial vow to marry you, and you couldn’t help but think that his boss at the time, Mister Roth, had something to do with it.

Taking a calming breath, you folded your hands gently on the counter, watching as Jonah opened the box, using a rather large and sharp knife to cut the twine tying the lid closed. As he set aside the packing paper and lid, and slid the knife back into the sheath on his belt, you released a breath you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding.

The waistcoat laying in the box looked exactly as the one he currently wore, save for the added embellishments around the collar and fancier buttons. This new one was to show his growing rank within the Blighters, you realized as you watched him shuck off the old vest. The nicer the outfit, the more respect, you assumed. You watched him change before you, tossing the old vest into the box carelessly. The buttons running down his abdomen held the familiar Red Cross you had come to associate with the Blighters.

As he finished redressing, your gaze fell back to the counter and the open package, wondering how this meeting was to end today. Most times Jonah came to the shop, he didn’t do much, just took the money your mother paid the Blighters for protection and left. Other days, he stood in the back workroom, watching you, but even that had become a rarer occurrence. Today, you hoped he would actually pay for the garment you had made him. Your family didn’t have much to sock away, your brother helping with a weekly allowance just to pay rent. You wished Jonah would just drop a money pouch on the counter and walk away.

He did walk away, nodding with a short “Ta!” He left no money on the counter, and no regard for the mess he had made either.

The books you had been reviewing flashed into your mind, mentally mapping out the budget for the vest he had just walked away with. Biting your lip to keep from lashing out and regretting it, you cleaned off the counter and tucked the box back under the counter.

As Jonah stepped off of the stoop out front and into the street, you heard his voice echo out in an order. At the outburst and commotion starting, you ran to the open door, looking down the street as Jonah kicked into a run, a small group of Blighters staying to fight the group of Rooks which had returned.

You watched as Jonah started towards the railroad overpass, not once chancing a look back to the men he had left to fight. A shadow fell over you and you looked up, noticing Mr. Frye gliding along a rope attached to the top of the building next door. Watching as he caught his footing and started running along the roofs, another shadow joined him, and soon, both mysterious figures had a grappling hook attached to the bridge.

Back before you on the street, the Rooks had taken care of the situation and the Blighters that had been fighting were lying motionless on the cobblestones.

You snapped your head back towards the overpass, watching as the smaller hooded figure dropped on top of a passing carriage before disappearing out of view. Mr. Frye, however had climbed to the top of the trestle, standing on the edge.

As much as you wished to be rid of Jonah Sutherland, his lackeys, the Blighters, and the memories of your relationship, you knew if he came back hurt, you would have to deal with it.

The Rooks on the street started to mingle, speaking with a police officer that had just appeared around the corner. The entire group started to laugh after a moment, and your brow furrowed, turning your attention back to the bridge. Mr. Frye’s form stood atop the trestle still, a Blighter you knew was too small to be Jonah darted out from an unattended carriage and started walking back towards your shop.

You gasped as you watched Mr. Frye step off the top of the bridge, landing roughly on top of the Blighter and pulling the limp body back towards the unattended carriage. As the door closed, Mr. Frye removed his hood, running a hand through his shaggy hair before replacing his top hat.

He turned as the second smaller mysterious hooded figure joined him. As they started to walk back towards your shop and the group of Rooks now once again milling about in the alley, you noticed it was a woman who had accompanied him, her hair tied back in a series of braids to hide easily under the hood she was removing.


	3. Chapter 3

As you walked out of the small walled garden behind your shop and back inside, you reveled in the quiet, foggy morning. Usually, the shop, and entire building, was locked until your mother woke in the morning to open the shutters, but as you found the back gate unlatched and the back door open, your heart leapt into your throat.

It was too early. He knew better than to come before you were open …

As you neared the back workroom, voices drifted in front the front of the store, washing a wave of ease over you as you recognized the voice.

Your mother was talking animatedly with none other than Jacob Frye. Both had large smiles on their faces, and Jacob seemed at ease as he leant against the cutting counter.

“Mother?” You prodded, stepping into the front of the shop, letting the drape in the doorway behind you fall shut. “You’re … up early.”

Your mother only smiled, pushing away from the counter and motioning to Jacob with an outstretched hand. “I had a meeting with this lovely gentleman this morning, dear! Nothing to worry over!” She smiled, turning you so you faced Jacob. “Mister Frye, I’d like to introduce my daughter.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Frye,” you nodded.

Jacob repeated your name, bowing his head respectively as he continued to grin. “Pleasure is mine,” he returned, bowing his head once again.

You, watched as the smirk grew, a glint in his eye you didn’t trust as he turned back to your mother.

“Mister Frye would like to order a new suit,” your mother interjected, pulling your attention to work and not the Gang Leader currently standing in front of you. She pushed a pad of paper and a pencil into your hands with a smile.

“But …” you started, noticing the sign on the front door still hadn’t been turned over to open the store. “We’re not …” you mumbled, looking down to the pad of paper.

“I’m terribly sorry to be here so early,” Jacob interjected. “Your mother assured me it would be fine to drop in this morning.”

“Yes, it is completely fine!” Your mother smiled, clapping her hands together.

You sighed, stepping up to the counter and placing the pad of paper on top of it. “What exactly are you looking for, Mister Frye? A sports suit, formalwear, everyday … Church clothes?” You rattled off.

Jacob smiled at you as your mother disappeared into the back room. “I’ve a meeting with some very important people in a matter of weeks,” he started. “And my current wardrobe is lacking in ‘dazzling’ and ‘noble’ wares.”

You nodded, taking notes on what he was saying and starting to come up with some ideas. “Well … I’ve got some other work to do at the moment,” you started, looking back up to him. “My mother will get all your details and measurements …”

“Already done, dear,” your mother said as she appeared behind you once more, a bolt of fine green silk in her hands. “This is what I had in mind, Mister Frye.”

You stood, shocked, and slightly amused. Your mother liked Jacob, you could tell, and she definitely knew more about him than you did by the way she was acting. You turned back to Jacob, mouth open to speak, but noticed he had turned his attention away and was staring across the street. You followed his gaze, and through the drapes that still hadn’t been opened, you noticed Jonah standing in the doorway of the pub across the way. Immediately, ice ran down your back, and your fingers tightened on your notepad.

“When are you free for a fitting?” You asked, gulping down a lump in your throat and asking the question almost too quick to be proper.

“I can drop in tomorrow evening for more measurements,” Jacob nodded, turning back to the counter.

You nodded, looking down to your mother’s notes and the bolt of fabric she had pulled out. “Very well,” you nodded, gaze straying back to the window.

Jacob smiled, replacing his top hat with a small tip. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” he nodded to you.

“We will see you again tomorrow!” Your mother smiled, waving after him as she followed, flipping the sign over and opening the drapes as he left.

You went to work, tidying the work area behind the cutting counter as your mother flittered to and fro around the shop before once again disappearing into the back room. You hadn’t noticed the door open, the doorbell didn’t make the slightest chime as Jacob left, and you felt another wave of unease wash over you. As you turned around, you gasped, nose practically meeting Jacob’s chest as you found he was standing not even a foot away from you, blocking the exit behind the counter.

Heart hammering, you practically cursed. “Excuse me!”

“Shh,” he pleaded, raising a gloved finger to his lips. You caught the brass accents and knuckles he wore, and visibly gulped, eyes flicking back up to meet his.

“The Blighters,” Jacob continued, lowering his hand. “You know them, correct?”

“I know of them, yes,” you nodded, taking a step away from Jacob.

“The bloke across the street,” he started, cocking his head to motion over his shoulder. “He was in here yesterday. Bought a vest.”

Jonah. Your gaze flicked back to the window, not seeing Jonah standing at the pub any longer. “He didn’t buy it … it was … it was a gift.”

Jacob’s gaze hardened as he looked down at you. “What’s his name? I need to know.”

For a moment, you stood stock still, mouth slightly open as you battled to tell the man the truth. Finally, you met and held Jacob’s gaze. “Jonah,” you answered, bowing your head away slightly. “Jonah Sutherland.”

“You know him well?” Jacob prodded.

You shrugged, tilting your head side to side. You knew you shouldn’t be saying this. To Jacob. Jonah would be furious if he found out you were speaking with the man you had learned led the Rooks. “Well enough,” you finally answered, remembering Jacob was still waiting on an answer. “W - why do you ask?”

Jacob stepped back, leaving the bubble he had invaded as he walked back around the counter. “There’s a bounty on his head,” he started.

Freezing, you gasped slightly in shock. “What happened?”

Jacob glanced over to you, noticing your voice had fallen slightly. “I’ve been trying to find him for weeks,” he answered slowly.

Glaring up at him, you stared. All those times you had seen him around London … had he been looking for Jonah? Had he been watching you because he knew Jonah frequented the area around your shop? You stood, mind racing. Jacob was dangerous. Perhaps not as dangerous as Jonah was, but something ….something told you to stay away from the man.

“I’ve known him since I was a child,” you blurted out, your mind apparently forgoing the knowledge that Jacob was just as dangerous as Jonah. You stepped around the counter, gaze moving to the windows and noticing the Blighters had left the stoop of the pub altogether. “He is in here once a week, or more. Depending on his mood.”

“Mood?” Jacob asked.

Biting your lip, raising a hand to brush some stray hairs behind your ear, you took a moment to gather your thought. “He is … He’s … I never know if he’ll be kind … or hurtful. He’s unpredictable.”

“Has he hurt you?” Jacob asked a few tense moments later. As you looked up, you met his hazel gaze, his eyes showing an emotion you couldn’t place. As you looked away, pushing past Jacob to start to the back room, he spoke once more. “You’re safe here, know that.”

You stopped in the door, hand holding the curtain. “I …”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he nodded, turning on his heel and striding from the shop.

You waited a few moments before following him to the door, standing on the open stoop as you watched him. Jacob strode straight to a carriage, conversing with a man in a green jacket briefly before climbing onto the bench. As you turned to walk back into the shop, you caught sight of the unmistakable red of a Blighter’s coat from down the street.

Jacob was looking for Jonah. Jonah was a Blighter, and Jacob a Rook. Rivals. Dangerous men. And both of them had been in your shop within a day of each other. You exhaled a shaky breath as you walked into the back room to find William playing with his toy soldiers at the foot of the stairs.

“What have I gotten myself into,” you mused, bending at the waste to tousle your son’s hair before sitting beside him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slight mention of past abuse in this chapter

Jacob smiled as you ran your hands along the shoulders of the recently finished jacket you had been working on this past week. You however, hardly met Jacob’s gaze, intent on your work. Your mother stood beside you, making idle chit chat with Jacob as she stitched some final touches on Jacob’s right sleeve. **  
**

“I’m sorry to ask such a favor of you,” Jacob repeated for the third time since he had arrived that morning. As your mother stepped away, Jacob relaxed and dropped his arm to his side, checking the cuff as he continued, gaze looking up to you in the mirror. “Can you hold this until the end of the week?”

“Of course,” you nodded, turning to the work table behind you, head bowed.

Jacob nodded turning in the mirror, eyes flicking to your mother as she moved aside Jacob’s personal effects. As the bell tolled in the front of the shop, your mother bustled out, the noise pulling Jacob’s gaze through the door.

“Welcome!” You heard your mother smile as she walked out.

Turning back to Jacob, eyes glued on the buttons along his chest. You felt his gaze shift down to you as you did. “How much business do you get through here?” he asked in a low voice, almost murmur.

The tone and position you were standing in was far too intimate, and you stepped back, twirling the spool in your fingers. Glancing up at him, you shrugged. “Not much,” you answered truthfully, “We’ve got our regular customers, and since the Blighters too over we’ve –”

“How many of the Blighters pay?” Jacob interjected, stepping away from the full length mirror.

“All of them,” you answered timidly, brows furrowing. “All except Jonah.”

Jacob’s response was cut off as your mother bustled back in. “But we get by, dear,” she smiled, handing you a sheet of paper with two new names and appointment times jotted down.

Jacob smirked, letting you guide the jacket from his shoulders and set it onto one of the forms. Stepping towards the table where his belongings sat, he began redressing. “I’ve a meeting to catch,” he said almost too fast.

Opening your mouth to speak, you shut it as the bell on the front door tolled behind Jacob’s fleeing form, his coattails whipping behind him as he strode into the street. As the door shut, you heard his voice echo across the street.

“They were always a rather … strange sort,” your mother hummed as she dusted the front window display, humming to herself. “Never could sit down and have a conversation before they were running off to God knows where.”

“Who were?” you asked, brows furrowing as you turned to your mother.

She didn’t answer, just continued her work and humming. “Don’t mind me dearie,” she sighed. “I’m just rambling.”

***

You spent the rest of the afternoon pondering your mother’s strange words about Jacob.  Had she meant ‘men’ in general? Or did she know something about Mr Frye that you didn’t? She was a rather intelligent woman, age having not affected her mind at all. She was sharp witted, and educated enough to teach you and your brothers to read when your parents couldn’t afford proper tutors. She had even started teaching William his letters and arithmetic. There was no way you believed she had been talking nonsense.

Shaking your head, you bit the thread between your lips, getting back into work and focusing on threading your needle. Jacob Frye, a mystery man who ran with the Rooks was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. Especially when, at any moment, Jonah and his Blighters could stroll through the door.

It wasn’t a moment after the thought hit you that none other than Jonah birst through the front door, calling your name.

His booming voice instantly chilled you to the bone, and it took everything in you to focus on your breathing as your heart pounded at his sudden entrance.

“Jonah,” you greeted, finally getting the thread through the eye of the needle and looking up.

As he stepped towards you, you forced a few more calming breaths. He had gotten into a fight recently, you noticed. His upper left arm was bleeding through his white shirt, soaking it to match the color of his waist coat.

“Wh-what happened?” you ventured, glancing over to the standing clock. Behind him, the front door swung laily on a broken hinge, the bell tinkling with the movement.

“Some bloke,” he answered, pushing past you and the front desk into the back room. “Where’s your thread?”

You watched as he took up the stool you had been spending most of the day in. His large hands grabbed at a spool of thread. Walking up to him, you took the needle and reached into the overhead cupboard for the first aid kit. “I’ll have to get some water,” you mumbled, taking a look at the wound. “And some alcohol.”

You bustled into the small kitchen area, finding a bottle of whiskey and a pot of water before he had a chance to object.

“Hurry up, will ya!” he hissed. Obviously, you were taking too long.

Wincing as his yell reverberated in the small room just as you walked through the door, you nodded, setting the supplies on the table before him. “Terribly sorry,” you mumbled.

You worked in silence, Jonah’s anger almost palpable as he sat before you. “I’ll need to check these dressings,” you started, wrapping a bandage around his arm.

He only grunted in response and pushed to his feet just as your fingers fell away from tying the bandage. Pacing about the room, you picked up pieces of mumblings about the man he had fought with.

You stood at the worktable, cleaning up the bandages and needles. You knew better than to try to talk to Jonah when he was in a mood such as this. Absentmindedly, your hand rose to run a finger over your jaw, where a memory of a bruise sat from attempting to talk to him in one of these moods. You knew Jonah was a man who didn’t let things go easily. He took small problems and blew them out of proportion. You daren’t to think what would have happened if he learned of William.

Turning to look to him, you watched him closely. The fight he had gotten into must have been easy for him, as other than that one cut, there were no visible injuries on him.

“Will you come tomorrow?” you asked as he started for the back door. “To check your bandages?”

He stopped, and stood looking over to you, jaw tense as if he had forgotten you had been standing there. “You’re gettin’ a bit cozy with that Rook bloke,” he started, stepping forward.

“H- he …” You gulped. “He’s ordered a new jacket.”

“A bloke like that shouldn’t be left alone for long,” he scoffed.

Fisting your apron in your hands, you stood your ground, clenching your mouth shut. Jonah stalked around the room, as if searching for something. He continued to speak about Jacob and his Rooks, and you become … worried for the man. His name alone made a warm feeling blossom in your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was fondness or the fact that he was trying to protect people like you from Jonah and the Blighters. You turned, continuing to clean up your workstation as your thoughts drifted away from Jonah and towards Jacob.

Jacob made you feel safe, you concluded. Even when standing in the same room as the local Blighter leader, hearing Jacob’s name made you feel safe.

“Tomorrow, then.” Jonah’s voice shook you from your thoughts as he pulled the back door open. As he passed you, his shoulder bumped into yours, sending the washbasin falling from your hands as you turned. The ceramic bowl clattered to the floor, sending water and shards scattering across the floor. Dropping to your knees, you held back a retort at Jonah’s behavior and started to pick up the large pieces of the bowl.


End file.
